Don't Go
by hansprinsessa
Summary: After Eric leaves Pam despite her begging him to stay, he realizes too late he may have pushed her too far this time. Paric, AU.


**A/N: Part one of a little two-shot. Angst and self-destruction and self loathing, oh my.**

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_If I let you in, you'd just want out_  
_If I tell you the truth, you'd fight for a lie_  
_If I spill my guts, it would make a mess we can't clean up_  
_If you follow me, you will only get lost_  
_If you try to get closer, we'll only lose touch_  
_But you already know too much, and you're not going anywhere_  
_Don't go, I can't do this on my own_  
_Save me from the ones that haunt me in the night_  
_I can't live with myself, so stay with me tonight_  
_Don't go -"Don't Go", Bring Me The Horizon_

He had spent a thousand years knowing exactly what to do, and when to do it. He was used to being the one with all the answers, how to fix and overcome every problem and adversity, and how to _always_ come out on top.

But then everything had changed. The hunter became the hunted. There were the witches, the Authority, and most of all, there was the faerie hybrid girl that made him lose his mind, and precipitated the actions that would make him lose everything.

One bad decision after another had plagued him. And every effect was greater than its cause. His relationship with his child, the only true constant he had ever had in his existence, had crumbled after he had repeatedly pushed her away; refusing to trust her, choosing almost everyone on the planet over her. His sister had died in his arms, purely because of a misguided whim to gain the upper hand in the war against the humans; turning the governor's sniveling daughter, an action that shamed him to his very core.

Godric's disapproval of what he had done was as thick in his blood as if he were still with him, bonded to him. Between his own actions of turning the Burrell girl and Pam turning her own insufferable progeny, something that would have never happened if he had been by her side where he belonged, he had allowed their once great bloodline to be sullied, Godric's legacy to be tarnished by people that didn't deserve to be vampires at all, much less a part of _their_ ancient pedigree.

He knew that Willa had been the beginning of the end. He didn't need to be bonded to Pam to know how much his actions had wounded her. Even in front of their captors, the backlash of her shock and her hurt had washed over her in ways that only he could see, never being able to hide anything from him. Her pain had flickered in her eyes, even as she put on a show for the people that imprisoned them.

They had been dancing on the edge of an abyss for some time. And by betraying her yet again, taking away her greatest source of pride, of comfort; that only _she_ belonged to him, he had moved them too close. One more step, and they'd fall, disappearing into a darkness that there may be no escape from.

He violently shoved her over the edge the next time he saw her.

He had been blinded by grief, barely even registering his decision making and actions as he made his way back into the camp to save her. He vaguely recognized there were others to be rescued, but all he could think, over and over again, was that losing her was not an option. Not only was he sure he wouldn't be able to survive her death, but he saw it as just another betrayal on top of all the rest. He had saved her that night a century before, saving her from her greatest fear: dying alone.

If he couldn't save her, if she was to die, they would do it together.

He had systematically dispatched every human he came across without batting an eye; the spray of warm blood across his face easing his pain little by little as each guard had fallen. He had been 'in the zone', as they say, until the repulsive therapist spoke the words that broke him from his reverie; words that rocked him with a jealous rage stronger than he had ever before experienced. Jealous, because of the resounding chant of _mine_ that began to scream in his brain, and rage because of the realization that she had been reduced to practically selling herself, again, just to get what she needed. A life she had _killed herself_ to escape. A life he _promised_ her she would never have to revisit.

Even through his grief, his rage and jealousy had turned into realization. One he did not yet have time to contemplate, but it was there, perched on the tip of his tongue, waiting on him to give it voice.

But later, when they were reunited once she and the others had drank from Bill and were safe, he had felt a shift between them, solidifying that realization even as it sent his mind all but careening out of control. The moment their eyes locked, both of them higher than fucking kites on fae blood, he felt like the earth spun out from beneath his feet. He had his first moment of clarity since Nora's death as he reached out, his fingers gently pushing her hair back from her face, his thumb brushing a bit of blood from her cheek. He vaguely remembered murmuring something about the therapist, his eyes glued to her reaction to his touch, barely stopping himself from sinking his hand into her hair and pulling her flush against him.

She was _his_. Not to be touched by some disgusting human man. Through his drugged haze, he couldn't quite remember what had happened to change things between them. Why couldn't he have her, right then and there?

It was her next words that brought him crashing back to reality, spoken without an ounce of the sarcasm that he would expect to hear with something so blatantly untrue as she purred, "You take such good care of me."

He had merely hummed his agreement, narrowing his eyes at her slightly, sharing another long look that told him that, regardless of his mistakes, she forgave him. A sinking feeling filled him, because he knew she felt what he did. That pull he was feeling, as strong and as constant as what keeps the planets orbiting around the sun, which would always pull them back together for what would _always_ be an explosive collision, the love and lust they've shared for each other for a century bringing them full circle.

It was time. For them to get back to what they were, what they were supposed to be, what he always knew they would somehow be again. He knew it, she knew it.

The problem was, he wasn't ready.

He was slipping. His stupidity had gotten Nora killed, a life spanning six centuries brought to a painful, tragic ending, because of _him_. Because he had forgotten even the most important lessons Godric taught him. He couldn't be with her, not now, not yet. How quickly would he bring _her_ to the same fate?

He had hoped he could slip away without her noticing, but it wasn't meant to be. Even without their bond she had sought him out, knowing him well enough to anticipate his next move.

She begged him not to go. Not to leave her again, as he had over and over. Not to abandon her as he had when he had run off with Godric all those years ago, when he left her for Sookie, when he cast her from his sight, when he came back to her only to break their bond and leave her again, when he left her only to return with a new progeny, finding her gone, taken from him when he left her unprotected.

He can't protect her, but he knows she can protect herself. He knows, because he was the one that taught her to. And for the first time in their lives together, he believes her to be safer without him, than with him.

"Don't you dare leave me," she had said, tears welling in her eyes, causing her voice to shake.

He only hesitated for the briefest of moments, begging her with his eyes to understand, before he did just that.

He needed time. Nora's blood still painted his chest. Two progenies neither of them should even have both danced around like idiots just steps away. He had only just regained his memories after being cursed, mere weeks before. So much had changed so fast, it had left his ancient brain spinning. He felt askew on his axis. He didn't know how to explain to her what he needed, but he hoped that she knew.

She didn't.

He had come back finally, a few weeks later. He had gotten away, cleared his head. Dealt with Nora's death as best he could, considering it was completely and irrevocably his fault. And as soon as he felt he was able to open up to her, to let her in like she deserved, he rushed back to her side.

The silence in the empty bar was deafening when he let himself in the back door. But the silence between them when they came face to face was thunderous.

He had taken a step forward, his face painted with confusion as she took a step backwards, her eyes almost fearful, startling him with her growled, "Stay the fuck away from me."

"Pamela—" he began, but she cut him off.

"No," she hissed, before repeating herself more vehemently, "_No_. You don't get to do this. Not anymore."

"Pam, please…" he begged, but he can see it in her eyes. He had always assumed she would _always_ be there. And she had been, through thick and thin, no matter what he did, no matter how big of an asshole he proved himself to be, she was there.

He had taken her for granted. He had hurt her one time too many. He had left her, even when she had begged him to stay with her, and stayed gone without a trace, not a word or as much as a phone call for weeks.

He abandoned her. He didn't deserve anything from her. Not her love. Not her forgiveness. Not her tears. Not even her anger. _Nothing_.

He looked up to see tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking with the force of holding her emotions back, and all he can think to say is the absolute truth, something he should have said a thousand times before now, whispering his plea so softly she can hardly hear it. "I am so sorry, Pam. I'm _so_ sorry."

"It's too late," she said with a shake of her head, turning her back on him, before she repeated her earlier words, slicing him right to the core, "Stay the fuck away from me, Eric. Just stay away."

The conviction was there in her voice. Just as much as he desired to be with her, completely, she desired for him to be out of her sight. It had been too long since he had simply listened to her. Done what she asked, what she wanted. What was best for _her_. And perhaps, after having to look after herself for too long while he slowly imploded, it was she who knew what was best for her, not him.

Slowly, he nodded, although she couldn't see him. He backed away from her, stopping only to leave her a small slip of paper with his new phone number on it, before he turned away.

Maybe she would call. Or maybe he won't ever hear from her again. Maybe he will never have what he decided he wants, what he _needs_, in his life again. And he knew he couldn't blame her. Everything, all of it, was completely his fault, his burden to bear.

He paused just as she reached the back door of the club, speaking softly the words he should have said so many times before, the words that could have brought them to a different ending than this.

"I love you, Pamela," he whispered, his voice hoarse, and met with continued silence he left, closing the door quietly behind him.

He would go, knowing she was finally taking away the one thing that he had never, ever truly deserved.

Her love.

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**A/N: Reviews would make me feel better after depressing the holy fuck out of myself :D**


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